Watch the World Burn
by FaithLestrange
Summary: What if Faith's life took a different turn after BtVS season 4? What if instead of running to LA, she found herself in Arkham Asylum? dark!Faith. Faith / Joker SPOILERS FOR 'THE DARK KNIGHT'
1. Wild Fire

_  
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are not mine. Please don't sue me, I'm in enough debt as it is thanks_

_A/n: Okay, if you haven't watched the movie yet (**and you should because it is the best movie I have seen in years!**) I would say to wait to read this because while the first chapter doesn't have any 'major' spoilers in it, following chapters will._

_A/N: This story is essentially AU past Buffy Season 4. Faith never goes to LA and doesn't try and redeem herself. Basically she goes in the opposite direction and falls even farther. I suppose you could say this is a dark fic…I'm not really a good judge of such things because it takes quite a bit to bother me. But I would say it's probably not going to be any darker than 'The Dark Knight' movie itself._

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_**I know how it feels—forced to be someone you're not. Hurts to the bone. You try to bury the pain, but you can't get the hole deep enough, can you? No matter how much you dig, it's still there. Broken shards stabbing every time you breathe, cutting you up inside. You know, there's only one way to make the pain stop. Hurt someone else. Come on, Faith, you're not even trying. Or is that why you really came back, huh? Not enough to punish yourself in prison? Is that it? Still looking for someone to help beat the bad out of you? You know what the funny part is, darling? I could beat you to death, and it wouldn't make a difference. Nothing will ever change who you are, Faith. You're a murderer, an animal, and you enjoy it. Just like me. –Angelus ("Release" Angel, Season 4) **_

Of the whole span of human emotions, she found herself returning to one more than any other.

Anger.

Anger at her mother and at her non-existent father. Anger at Buffy Anne Summers and the glorious wisdom of the Watchers Council. Anger at anyone and everyone. And most especially, anger at herself.

She had found a way to outlet that anger in violence. God, how she thrived in violence. The thrill and sheer exhilaration of it. The power of it was amazing.

Angel had been right. It was like a drug for her. A drug better than any she had tried and she had tried just about all of them. She wasn't about to quit this. Not willingly. Fuck that. No falling off the wagon when you never plan to get on. She would be this way till she was dead.

So at the rate she was going… perhaps not that long.

Eventually the anger was no longer the driving force behind her aggression, just the excuse. The kindling had burned up, but she found the fire still raging.

All that mattered was the need and how to sate it. She needed to cause that destruction and that pain. That chaos. She found that it was only in those moments when the pain of others was truly palpable that the power of it allowed her to feel something other than hopelessly numb.

She was still angry…but that fury had become directionless. Faith hated pretty much everyone, but no one at the same time. She found that she didn't really hate B or the others. In fact, Buffy and Angel were probably the only people she would hesitate at killing. She still would if forced. No doubt about that.

"Close it."

Ca-Clink.

The 12-inch thick metal door shut into place.

She had almost forgotten. She must really be going crazy.

Faith Marie Lehane leant against the padded wall of her cell rubbing absently at spots on her wrists where they'd just removed her cuffs. Yet another pointless evaluation from that joke of a psychologist. As if they were ever going to make a breakthrough with her.

Only one person had ever come close to saving her and the time for such things had long since passed.

She could most definitely escape here if she wanted to, but Faith figured she should wait. She needed the rest anyway. And hey, four square meals a day and her own room? That was more than she ever had back home.

Faith would wait until they forgot just who it was they were dealing with.

And they would.

Men just couldn't seem to wrap their heads around the fact that a hundred-some pound girl could down them without a second thought.

The best part was they didn't know the half of it. They just thought she was a skilled fighter. Not a clue that, given the right incentive, she could rip that cell door right off its hinges. Such an act might be a bit tiring and hardly worth the effort when she could just wait until for one of her evals to make her escape, but entirely within her capabilities nonetheless.

It had been almost four years since she had woken up from her coma and fled Sunnydale. The Scoobies had lost track of her roughly a year ago when B had found her in Cleveland beating the shit out of some demons and basically anyone that got in her way.

After that, Faith had gotten much better at hiding. Runic tattoos to shield her from B's pet witch and a foolproof new identity….oh how she loved magic. Arkham Asylum and the wonderful men of Gotham's police force thought her name was Hope Lee Hanes. For what the name itself lacked in creativity it made up for in its brilliant forgery.

She had done a job for a mystic and as payment he had made her a new identity. The new identity was complete with photos, people who remembered her, birth records, elementary school yearbook pictures and he had even gave her a few fake memories for authenticity's sake.

Faith was just glad that Buffy and her fabulous superfriends hadn't figured out where she was yet. Buffy and the others were part of the reason she had allowed for her incarceration at Arkham Asylum for so long. The Gotham authorities had found her torturing a local pimp just for the fun of it 4 months back…and gosh no! They wouldn't stand for such malarkey!

Who cared that he would beat the hell out of his girls when they didn't make enough money turning tricks. Granted she had kicked the shit out of them too. The stupid bitches had pissed her off. They reminded her too god-damned much of her mother.

At her trial they must have realized she wasn't exactly stable, so they had thrown her in here instead of the standard run-of-the-mill women's prison.

Faith was aware this was probably where she belonged. She knew she was crazy….which sort of set her apart from most psychopaths. But she enjoyed being crazy.

Normal people were always so damn depressed about everything…and why would she want to be like that?

No. She had passed the point of no return quite some time ago and the thought of going back didn't occur to her anymore. This was who she was. All she would ever be.

Now all she had to do was find a moment of escape that wouldn't look too unlikely for a normal girl to manage. She figured it would probably catch the attention of Buffy or maybe Angel if a girl broke out of a maximum security psych ward by killing all her jailers one by one with her bare hands and then walking out the front door.

That would be fun though.

All she had to do was wait for the right moment, and it was goodbye Arkham. Goodbye Gotham. Hello crazy messed-up world.

It was almost sad really. She sort of liked Gotham City. But once she escaped here, the local authorities would have her number. She didn't want to deal with that kind of attention.

Gotham had been a favorite of hers for the simple fact that there were almost no demons or magical beings to speak of. It was like the opposite of a Hellmouth, almost like it repelled the paranormal. Maybe it was just because Gotham already had its fair share of crazies without the supernatural's help, so they didn't bother with the place.

The low amount of demon activity was beneficial for her since it was less likely she would run into someone who knew who and what she was. Faith also liked it here because she was, in all likelihood, the strongest person in the whole city. That was always a plus. A real ego booster.

All she had to worry about in Gotham was the Batman.

And a guy that liked to dress up like a flying rodent? On the list of people she had to worry about….that ranked pretty low.

"Ha-haha! Hee! Ho-ho! Heh-hee!" A rough cackling voice echoed through the halls.

Faith peered through the tiny eye level window of her cell door to see what was going on. There was a man being dragged by the orderlies to the cell directly across from hers. He was dressed in the standard patient white jumpsuit, but what stood out was his face. He had on what looked like clown make-up, but it had been smeared and worn through the course of events that had brought him here. He also had scars that began at the either side of his mouth and stopped just short of his cheekbones giving off the effect of an exaggerated smile.

Sort of gave credence to that whole fear of clowns thing she had as a child.

The resulting effect on the man was frightening. Well, frightening to anyone else anyway.

She was over fear. Fear was for people who cared if they lived or died. The prospect of death for her wasn't scary, just sort of… unfortunate.

They finally managed to drag the man right in front of her door as they readied his cell.

He was sort of attractive, in his own way. Maybe that attraction simply stemmed from the danger she could sense in him. Years of being the Slayer had made her quite attune to evil, both in demons and in people. This man was dangerous and reeked of the darkness.

And that, was beautiful to her.

She chuckled. Danger: her natural aphrodisiac.

And shit, that reminded her. She hadn't gotten laid in ages. What she wouldn't give for a decent rough and tumble. Her quiet laughter must have caught his attention because now he was looking right at her. Oh, wow. Those eyes sure were penetrating.

She sort of wished something else of his would do some penetrating…

He smacked his lips noisily, then his lips curled into a tiny grin and his scars stretched taut.

"Hi."

His voice sounded like that of a mischievous little child. Oh, the violent promises that playful voice held. She could just imagine the devastation they could reap together.

She smiled back, although on retrospect... it wasn't like he could see anything but her eyes…

"Hey."

They pulled him into his cell slamming the door shut behind him. One of the orderlies had noticed her peering out of her viewing window and shut it with a reprimanding bang.

She sighed wistfully before reluctantly crawling into her bunk at the far side of the room. Soon she would make her escape.

Yes, soon she would make her escape and maybe she would take that clown with her.

She always did like a guy that could make her laugh.


	2. The Joker and the Thief in the Night

_Disclaimer: No infringement intended...no suing thanks._

_A/N: So I am loving writing this story. darkFaith is so much fun to write. Just for reference, I used the song "Strangers in the Night" by Frank Sinatra in this chapter. I've been sifting around for songs that I felt fit with the pairing to listen to while writing the story (any suggestions?). I found I'm really fond of the big band and jazzy type stuff for some reason for the two of them. I really like "Sway" by Rosemary Clooney and quite a bit of Sinatra's stuff. But I also liked the rock song "The Joker and the Thief in Night" by Wolfmother (which inspired the chapter title)._

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Faith's eyes fluttered open to the sound of….

Was that singing?

She sat up like a shot and shuffled quickly to the door of her cell. The damn orderlies still had her window closed shut, so she couldn't look out of it. Fucking mouth-breathers.

_"Something in your ** eyes** was so inviting,  
Something in you **smile** was so exciting,  
Something in my heart told me I must have you…"_

Faith found herself grinning like an idiot. It was him. That clown-man.

_  
"Strangers in the night,  
Two lonely people, we were strangers in the night  
Up to the moment when we said our first **hello** little did we know  
Love was just a glance away, a warm embracing dance away…"  
_

And damn if he wasn't a pretty decent singer. Was that Sinatra? Didn't matter. What did matter was that he most definitely singing to her.

Oh yeah, she was definitely going to be taking that man with her.

One of the orderlies came by and pounded on his door, "Shut your gob Joker, no one wants to hear you!"

So was Joker his name? Or was he just calling him a 'joker'? Well regardless, she needed something better to call him in her head than 'clown-man' and Joker would do just fine.

"I want to hear him." Faith spoke up.

A few moments passed before her window slid open and a pair of the dull brown eyes greeted her. She recognized them as belonging to the orderly Jonathan Vance. Johnny had only started here a couple weeks ago. He was a bigger guy, mid-twenties and not especially bright. He was like Gomer Pyle without any of the endearing personality. He had moved here from somewhere in the mid-west. He had told her exactly where once, but Faith had forgotten...mainly because she didn't care. John had the habit of forgetting she was a psychopath and consequently had a thing for her. And honestly, who wouldn't? She was smokin' hot. She had used his attraction to her for her own advantage, scoring a few more liberties and things...hell, last week he had brought her a box of chocolates.

How sweet.

"Hanes, I have to make him stop. He's disturbing the other patients."

Faith pouted, "Oh come on Johnny-boy! It's not like you give us anything to do with our time! Not even a god-damn radio!"

She heard the Joker add, "It's enough to make someone lose their mind!"

Johnny pointed one of his chubby fingers irritably at the Joker.

"Shut. Up."

Faith snorted. Johnny gave her a reprimanding look to which she made a face, "What?"

He sighed, "Look, Hope. I don't have a problem with you. Hell I like you, for a crazy bird…"

She frowned. His skills at flattery needed a little work.

"But don't encourage **_that_** man. I know you've been in here for a while so you don't know who he is. But he is dangerous. He will only try and manipulate you to his own ends. Given the chance he would kill you soon as look at you. He blew up a hospital for Christ sake!" Johnny told her clearly aggravated by the Joker's presence.

Faith decided not to mention the fact that she had been manipulating him and would certainly kill him given the opportunity. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him...well... it would, but no need for him to know that either. It was also sort of laughable that he thought she would care how many people the Joker had killed. Men. Always so ready to save the damsel in distress. Or, the damsel in the padded cell, as it were.

She gazed past Vance to see that the Joker's eyes were framed in his own cell window. His make-up was still smudged on his face, or at least on the parts that she could see. Leaving that shit on all the time had to be killer on his complexion.

"You blew up a hospital?" Faith asked him and was genuinely curious to hear his response. The Joker blinked slowly with his eyes trained on her and then his head bobbed up and down in the rectangular opening.

Faith certainly wasn't a fan of hospitals, not by a long shot. After that 8 month coma, just the thought of that antiseptic smell made her sick to her stomach. She certainly wouldn't mind blowing one up.

Of course Arkham wasn't much better and was, technically, a hospital.

She smirked. Blowing this place up would be nothing short of a mercy killing. If done right it might even catch the rest of the Narrows on fire. Then, the Mayor of Gotham himself might walk up and give her a god-damn medal just for ridding Gotham of the hell-hole.

And several city blocks burning…that would really be something…

Faith glanced back at Jonathan who was giving her a look that said something like, _'see, didn't I tell ya?_' laced with a bit of _ 'I just want to save you.'_ Just how many corny cheese-fest movies had he been watching? Apparently he thought she was the 'psycho-slut with a heart of gold' just waiting for her shining white knight with the beer-gut to whisk her away from her crazy messed up life. He'd think differently soon enough. Jesus, just because she was pretty on the outside didn't mean she was in the one place where it actually counted.

He did know what she'd done to that pimp, right? She heard them say that the man would probably never be coherent again because she'd mutilated him so badly.

"So why'd you do it?" Her eyes drifted back to the Joker, and then added drolly, "Screwed by your HMO?"

The Joker started to laugh so forcefully that it resonated up and down the hall. Faith had found herself joining just by the sheer infectiousness of it. Jonathan scowled and started to leave in the direction of the guard's station. Faith smashed her face up to that glass to get a better look at him leave.

"Hey! Where are you going? Don't leave me alone with this guy! He might scramble my brains!" She banged on her door frantically, "Save me Johnny! Save me!"

His head turned round and she could see that his face was now an intense shade of red. He looked away and made his way quickly out the door. God, he was even worse than Xander in the naive department. At least Xander had been good-looking to make up for it. Faith sighed.

"I think I may have upset him. And here I thought we were going to run away together. Another dream gone. Like a thief in the night."

She pouted and crossed her arms. Then she realized that such a gesture would go totally unnoticed she stopped. Faith was really wishing she wasn't behind this steel door anymore. Viewing the world through a tiny rectangular window and only being perceived as a set of eyes was unbelievably frustrating. It was really hindering her ability to communicate in the manner for which she was used to.

Girl loved her body language.

Not to mention the fact that she was used to talking to a guy for all of five seconds before they were so engrossed with her rack and the suggestive sway of her hips that it no longer mattered if she was talking about the weather, sports, or the geopolitical climate of Malaysia…they were only thinking about one thing.

Guess she was going to have to attract this man with her mind. Great. Cause she was just so fucking eloquent. Once she got out of here she would make sure there was a whole lot less talking and a lot more... _'doing'._

The Joker was silent for a long period of time just staring at her, eyes gauging. Finally his head tilted slowly to the side, like an inquisitive dog.

"Hope? Was it?"

Faith shrugged, "That's what it says on the birth certificate."

She didn't have a problem telling the Joker the truth, it's just that she knew they recorded pretty much everything they said in here. If she told him the truth they might actually look into it. Then they would discover a wanted murderer by the name of Faith Lehane that looked suspiciously identical to one Hope Hanes…

And then, inevitably, it would get back to the Watcher's Council…or Buffy…and someone would be showing up in Gotham to lay the smack down on Little Miss Hanes. Of course, if she told the **whole** truth they would probably just hop up her medication.

The Joker's eyes drifted upward in thought.

"Hope." He emphasized the 'p' with a pop, perhaps testing out the feel of it.

"Riiiggght…." She lent her head against the door casually. "Liked the song by the bye. Sinatra, was it? I'm usually not into the older stuff. More of a punk, grunge, Rock & Roll gal. But it was… nice."

"_Nice?_" He repeated, "Things I do are seldom referred to as _nice_…"

"**Horribly** nice?" Faith offered accommodatingly.

She was pretty sure that made him smile, but she couldn't be sure. His eyes looked happy, anyway.

"So…Hope. What is a _nice_ girl like you dong in a place like this?" the Joker's eyes darkened wickedly.

"Waiting." She answered simply.

"Oh. For what?"

She just smirked.

"You'll see."


	3. Beautiful Monster

_Disclaimer: Don't own the characters._

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_"I'm waiting."_

_"Oh, for what?"_

_"You'll see." _

At first, it had just been idle curiosity that caused him to try to get her attention. Give him something to do while he was here. Bide his time. Hope. He had no idea what she looked like and it didn't seem to matter. Her eyes, her voice, her words were all so captivating.

She laughed about death. Even her own. Some would laugh simply to keep themselves from weeping. Hope truly found violence funny. There weren't very many people to whom he found anything even approaching kinship. He never really cared to locate such people. He didn't strive for acceptance, so friends weren't necessary. He surrounded himself with people, certainly. They were all expendable. A means to an end. Maybe she could be different.

He found himself wanting to know more about her. Learn her story. He was used to being the one who was the enigma. To have that turned on its head was certainly a new experience. His interest was peaked enough that given the chance he might wait to kill her just to figure out the truth of her.

The Joker had the sneaking suspicion that killing her wouldn't be all that satisfying anyway. Hope wasn't a coward so she wouldn't plead and yell. She wasn't brave, so he couldn't slowly wheedle that bravado away to reveal the fear deep inside.

Hope just…didn't care.

And where would the fun be in killing someone who didn't give a shit that you were killing them? Talk about a buzz-kill.

They had separated him from Hope almost immediately after their first conversation, putting him where he was completely isolated from all the other patients. They must not have liked the interaction between them. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it either, to tell the truth.

Two monsters getting along never boded well for the prey and so the staff had them separated.

Pity...

Hopefully he would see her again soon.

"Heh, yes. _Hope_-fully….I won't be _Hope_-less… much longer."

His faith had paid off. It was two weeks later when he saw her again.

And it was two weeks later that she finally showed him what she had been waiting for.

And it had certainly been worth the wait.

* * *

Three men led him down the corridor to the offices of the Lead Clinical Psychologist, Good-Old Whatsername. They had him restrained in a strait-jacket with his arms wrapped tightly around him.

Apparently, they thought he might hurt them. Whatever would give them that idea?

The orderlies had washed off his make-up right when they had moved him to the other cell. He felt almost naked without it. Exposed for the entire world to see. He wasn't a modest person about most things. This though... it was like he was missing a part of himself.

On the way to the evaluation, they passed through a large open room with black and white tile flooring. There were several patients in varying states of lucidity shuffling around the room. The nurses and guards were watching them silently. The Joker was pulled into a side room. It was a large office. There was an ornate desk, dark wood paneled walls, and a few fake plants set around for aesthetic.

At the desk sat an older black woman. Dr. Turay from Cameroon.

Cameroon. Funny name. Like a Camel and a Macaroon. That was the only reason he'd remembered. They had talked several times before. Well, the good doctor had talked _at_ him... and then he had mocked her. He wasn't interested in being 'understood' and 'assessed'.

"Ah. Hello, again Mr. Joker."

'Mr. Joker' was always what she called him. So formal and so polite. So serious…and he knew just what to do with serious people…if he weren't restrained. Guess he would just have to settle for being irritating.

"Ah. Hellloooo Doctor! How are the kids? Lovely weather we're having isn't it? Weeelll…I wouldn't know, would I? But I'm sure it's _wonderful._" He smiled broadly as the beefy guard Jonathan pushed him down into his seat.

The woman sighed as she took off her glasses and set them down on the table.

"I'm sure you must find yourself very amusing, Mr. Joker. But I think you will find I am quite above your little games. I will not be goaded or bullied, so you best be getting used to the idea of these examinations because I will be continuing them indefinitely. And _I_ will be the one getting under _your_ skin. Not the other way around."

She was right about one thing… she really was starting to 'get under his skin'. Made him want to rip hers off. Just sitting there thinking herself above his wrath because he was confined and incapacitated. That didn't mean he had to take it lying down.

"Above my little games, Doctor? Oh, Turay, Turay…Tuurrr..aay. When I play it's not little. Nothing I do…Nothing I _have_ in me…is little! I play with lives, Doctor. And I _will_ play with yours, eventually."

She tried to look like what the Joker was saying wasn't bothering her, while she scribbled notes in her book. He could see the color draining from her cheeks. He would bet anything she was a screamer.

He continued, "It's you who plays the children's games, Doctor. You think you can learn people. Know why they do whatever it is that they do.…when it's all so…_beyond_ you. Because you can't accept the truth. See the world for what it is. To you, it's all chemical imbalances, childhood traumas. Explanation and meanings. Categories. Things happen for reasons. You think…people are, by nature, good. And righteous. But, the truth is…people…they're all monsters. Now, not all of them are _honest_ monsters that will show that to you up-front…"

He grinned to emphasize his scars.

"But it's there. And it's just waiting for the excuse to let itself loose."

* * *

It was roughly thirty minutes later that the three men led him out of Dr. Turay's office. She had spouted off some indecipherable psycho-babble about his 'condition'. Then she attempted a few more evaluations, all of which he had thrown back in her face. When she finally had enough Dr. Turay had pretended she was done with him, but he knew that she just couldn't stand to be in the same room with him anymore. He scared her. It wasn't the scars and his threatening personality that scared her most. It was that she saw the horrifying accuracy of his words.

Why lie when the truth was so much more fun?

The orderly Mr. Vance ran off to the nurse's station to grab his medication. Something to keep him docile, no doubt. Didn't matter, it wasn't like he swallowed them anyway.

He stood there with his two other 'chaperones'. He looked at the other patients silently. Some of them were sitting catatonic in wheelchairs. Others were aware enough to interact with one another. Some were playing checkers, staring out the window, laughing at the television…

Wait.

Staring out the window.

His eyes trailed back to the lone figure staring out the large barred off windows that covered the far wall. It was a woman. She had dark unruly hair that fell just below her shoulders and it was covering her face. Nice body.

"Hmm.."

The more the Joker watched her the more he noticed that she wasn't really looking _out_ the window…

She was looking _at_ the window. Even more specifically, she was looking at the bars. Her hands were currently tracing the thick metal in a seemingly harmless manner.

As if sensing that someone was watching her, the woman's head turned. She shook her hair away from her eyes. It took him a second to realize that he knew those eyes.

It was Hope.

The corner of Hope's lips twitched upon seeing him. She brought up a hand, then gave him a tiny wave of her fingers. He blinked twice, slightly dumbfounded, but found himself smiling back despite himself.

He hadn't really known what he expected, but she was more than he would have imagined. _Gorgeous_ wasn't even a strong enough word. It was seldom that he met someone that shared similar 'interests'. And to find it in a beautiful woman? That almost felt like fate. If he believed in such things.

And, it brought up so many other troubling questions. Being attracted to her, the fact that he had even been musing about a relationship between them... it just didn't make sense. He thought he knew himself. The self he thought he knew didn't want to be _with_ anyone.

Hope eyed the guard, Jonathan. He was making his way back from the nurse's station. A wicked grin crossed her features. She began to wander casually in their direction. Her movements went completely unnoticed by the staff. Hope looked harmless, so perhaps that was part of the reason they didn't look twice at her.

More than likely, however, they were all too busy watching him.

And what exactly could one unarmed girl hope to do against a handful of trained guards, anyway?

Jonathan came to stand in front of the Joker blocking his view of Hope. He swirled the pills around in the plastic cup idly. The two other men grabbed the Joker's shoulders holding him still.

"Alright Joker, open your mouth. I don't want any troubl-argk!" He made a gagging noise as his head was pulled backward. The pills were thrown up in the air and they rained down over him.

There was a shuffle of confusion. The patients were screaming and the nurses were attempting to calm them. The guards were shouting and pulling out their tasers. When the chaos finally settled, Hope was standing there in the middle of a slew of guards. She had John by the throat with what looked like a hand-made shiv. She pressed the knife close against Vance's throat.

Hope used her other hand to pull playfully at Jonathan's thinning brown hair as she cooed softly into his ear.

"Hello, _lover._"

Johnny was clawing at her arm in shock. That he couldn't manage to free himself from her grip was surprising. He was a large man and the Joker assumed at least some of that mass came in the form of muscles….surely he could pry himself from the girl's grasp?

"Alright, Hope….put the knife down. You don't want to do this…", one of nurses tried to reason with her.

Hope looked at her like she was stupid, "Bitch…you don't have the first clue what I _want._"

"Well, maybe you could tell us? And then maybe…maybe we could help." The woman tried to sound calm, but was failing miserably.

"Alright," she looked at the Joker, "for starters you can let him out of his strait-jacket."

The nurse turned to look behind her. When she saw the Joker standing there with the two guards holding on to him her eyes widened in disbelief.

"You want me to…I…no…I can't…he's-"

"Dangerous?" Hope supplied.

Her heavy-lidded eyes darkened slightly.

"Oh. Well. In that case…" She pressed the knife even harder against John's throat. Blood started to trickle down his neck and he began blubbering incoherently. The Joker started to laugh and then the nurse really started to panic.

Dr. Turay clambered out of her office, probably hearing the commotion. When she saw what was happening her face hardened.

"Put it down, Hope! Let John go." Dr. Turay ordered with an air of authority.

Turay stepped in front of the guards. "We were making such progress. You haven't shown any violent tendencies since we brought you in…our sessions were going so well! Why are you doing this?"

The girl shook her head, "Just because I'm insane doesn't mean I'm stupid…I _can_ lie. I can control myself, if it suits me. I'm doing _this_ because I have wanted to do _this_ ever since I got here. I just had to wait until you lessened my risk level and let me walk around here without restraint. Now, you let the _Joker_ go."

For threatening to kill a man, Hope was awfully calm.

Jonathan looked close to passing out, but she didn't seem to notice or care. Doctor Turay nodded. At first, the Joker thought it was to Hope, but then realized that she was nodding to a guard who had inched behind her with his taser held outward.

The Joker was about to warn her, thinking that his possibility of salvation was in jeopardy. Before he could, the man pulled the trigger. In a flash of movement Hope spun around throwing Jonathan into the path of the conductive wires. The rotund man convulsed as the current ripped through his body. He dropped to the floor his body still shaking.

Hope cursed as she took stock of her situation. Six guards all had their stun guns trained at her.

"Hope, it's over. Give me the knife." Dr. Turay held out her hand expectantly.

She looked down at the shiv in her hand and back at the doctor slowly. She shrugged.

"Fuck it... screw subtlety."

The Joker hadn't a clue what that meant.

Hope raised an expectant eyebrow at the doctor. "You want the knife, Doctor Turay?"

The Joker liked the sound of that. The African woman nodded, clearly not sensing the danger, and took a step closer to take the knife from her. Hope turned the shiv around in her hand gripping the blade with her thumb and forefinger as if to pass it off to the elder woman.

She took a resigned step in the doctor's direction, and then without warning the knife flew from Hope's hand. It sung through the air for several feet and embedded itself right in Dr. Turay's skull. She collapsed to the ground.

Nice shot.

He did have an inkling of disappointment at Turay's death. He had wanted to be the one that killed that intolerable bitch and his method would have been a lot slower.

And involve a lot more screaming.

The guards shot their stun guns, but none of them hit their mark. Hope dodged the taser wires and advanced on the men. She glided around them like a ballerina through a sea of lumbering buffoons. She would hit one and before they could retaliate Hope had slipped too far out of reach. He'd only seen one other person take on so many with such minimal effort.

A certain someone that wore a mask and hopped along rooftops.

He often wondered what the Batman would become if he had succeeded in corrupting him. The Joker suspected he would have wound up something like her.

"Beautiful." He whispered.

Hope decked one of the guards next to him.

"Aren't I just?" she beamed.

Before he could respond, she grabbed him by his strait-jacket and shoved him in the direction of the windows. The Joker could see more guards scrambling in with rifles and guns. They must not have taken too kindly to Hope killing the Dr. Turay. Hope was too preoccupied with the window to notice the latest arrivals.

"Well, what now?" The Joker asked impatiently, "I usually don't like people with plans…but beating up the guards only to get yourself cornered? I hate to say it, but maybe you should have thought this through at bit better…"

Hope looked back irritated, "I could leave you here if you like."

"Leave me here? It not like you're going anywhere sweetheart…"

She said nothing to that and grabbed hold of the bars on the windows. He watched in astonishment as they popped right out of the frame and fell to the ground. Hope turned to look at him smugly.

"Don't move or we'll shoot!" One of the guards shouted. Hope ignored the command and grabbed the Joker again, this time wrapping her arms tightly around him.

The Joker leered at her.

"Now, is hardly the time."

Hope winked back mischievously.

A shot rang through the room and fell wide of its target. Hope took that as her queue and fell backward, pulling them both through the window. The glass shattered around them as they fell.

At this point, after all she had done, the Joker had half-expected her to fly.

No such luck.

Now he was pretty sure that the fall wasn't enough to kill a person, but it certainly enough that they wouldn't be walking away from it. Hope turned to put herself below him and take the brunt of the fall.

Funny, she didn't seem the sacrificial type.

They landed right on top of a parked car with a crash. The roof caved in and the windows sprayed glass in all directions. Everything was still for several moments after the impact, then something shoved him off the car. He landed on the ground with graceless thud. Then, Hope was there just staring at him.

She kneeled down in front of him. Hope didn't say anything, she just reached behind him to fiddle with his binds. Finally she got the ties loose and his arms were free. He gave a sigh of relief. The Joker had been getting a bit tired of hugging himself. Sure, he was all for narcissism, but that was a little much.

Hope helped him to his feet. Aside from some minor cuts and scrapes from the glass, she didn't look in the least bit injured by the fall. How the hell had she managed that?

"Hope... How did…?"

Damn. He was usually so much better at expressing himself. It was just that he wasn't used to being taken by surprise. He was usually the one in control. She held up a hand to silence him. He didn't like that much.

"No time." She patted him on the back, and then she grinned. "And my name's not Hope."

With that she turned and started sprinting right into the thick of the Narrows. The Joker followed quickly behind.

This was an enigma he intended to solve.

* * *

_reviews are super. _


	4. Luck Be a Lady

_Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of BtVS, Angel, or the Batman movies. No infringement intended. This is just for fun._

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* * *

Harold Furlough worked for the mob. He was a grunt. A nobody. He barely even had the privilege of carrying a gun.

But he had high hopes. He was making his way up the ladder and eventually he would really make something of himself. Now, if only he could find himself a girl. Harold had extremely bad luck when it came to women. He wasn't a bad looking guy, he thought. He just couldn't seem to hack getting a girl's attention. He would freeze up whenever he tried to talk to a pretty girl, or he would say something completely inappropriate. His friends had decided to take him to a bar get him trashed and find a girl, even if it was only for one night.

It had been a bust. The only thing they'd been successful at was getting him drunk. The only girl he had managed to talk to wound up slapping him. He'd hobbled out the back exit to the alleyway behind the bar so he could have a smoke and wallow in his sorrows.

Harold took a long hard drag and leant against the wall. He shut his eyes with a sigh.

"Can I bum a cigarette?"

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn't heard the woman approach. When he turned to look at her, his vision blurred a little. He must have been even drunker than he realized. Why was she wearing all white?

"Oh, don't worry about that." She must have seen that he was looking at her clothing.

"I like your jacket." The brunette sauntered up to him and touched his black leather coat softly and then she pulled the cigarette right out of his mouth.

"Hey that's-" she shushed and put a finger over his lips. She took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke in his face. He didn't care. He was too busy staring.

Maybe his luck with girls was about to change.

"You're cute." He slurred.

She took the cigarette out of her mouth and smiled at him. "I know."

The woman started to unbutton her shirt slowly…or was it a jumpsuit? It didn't matter. She slid up to him and the fabric fell away from her body. His breath caught in this throat.

There was a beautiful half-naked woman in an alleyway_ in the Narrows_ practically throwing herself at him! If he wasn't so busy thinking with his penis, he might have seen the absurdity of it all.

"Oh, god."

She traced her finger along his neckline and brought her face up close to him. Her mouth crashed into his and he pulled her roughly to him in his own excitement. She broke away moments later and moved to bite at his ear. She whispered huskily, "Take off your clothes…"

"Whatever you want…" Harold replied and quickly started to tear off his leather jacket and shirt. She watched on silently and the look in her eyes made him ache. He went to kiss her again.

"Give me your wallet."

He paused and looked at her in surprise. His buzz and adrenaline high were starting to dissipate, "What?"

"You heard me, killer."

The woman grabbed him by the neck and put the lit cigarette out on his cheek, causing him to scream in pain.

"You fucking bitch!" He hit her across the face and she stumbled slightly.

He grabbed at his waist for his gun only to find it wasn't there. His stomach sank when he heard a gun click. His head turned and he found himself face to face with his own pistol.

"Looking for this?"

When he saw who it was Harold Furlough nearly wet himself. He wasn't sure for a second that it was actually the Joker without his makeup on, but he recognized the voice well enough from the news reports. He held his hands up in alarm.

"Please don't kill me!"

The girl laughed, "_Please, don't kill me!_ And you called me the bitch. And didn't your momma ever teach you not to hit girls?"

The Joker's head tilted and he watched the girl grinning like a fool. The woman, clad now only in her black bra and underwear, jumped on Harold knocking him to the ground, "It's not nice!"

She slammed his head against the cement and his vision swimmed. He attempted to take a swing at her, but she grabbed his arm and twisted it. Harold felt it snap and he cried out in pain. As she sat on top of him pummeling him into the ground…all he could think was that when it came to girls... he really and truly was cursed.

He felt his consciousness start to slip. The woman finally stopped her vicious beating when the Joker's hands slipped around her waist and he pulled her off of him. Harold's swollen eyes didn't see much but he could make out shapes moving against the brick wall of the alley right next to him.

And he heard noises, that likely meant one thing.

Apparently even the Joker could get laid, while he couldn't even get a pretty girl to acknowledge his existence. And just when he thought his luck might have been changing and a hot chick might actually like him...she'd wound up breaking what felt like every bone in his body. Then she started doing god-knows what with a crazed psychotic over his broken and bleeding body.

Harry whimpered in pain and attempted to drag himself out of the alley away from his attackers. He made it about ten feet when he heard a shot ring out.

Then Harold Furlough didn't hear, think, or feel anything ever again.

* * *

"How the hell did this happen?"

Commissioner Gordon was on the verge of a coronary. The Joker had escaped. He was still trying to convince himself that it was all just a nightmare, his mind playing tricks on him. Yet, no matter how many times he pinched himself nothing changed.

Detective Stephens looked just about as cheerful as he looked up from the body of Dr. Monica Turay. The forensic team was just finishing up its investigation.

He sighed, "It shouldn't have. After the break-out last year, security at Arkham has increased seven-fold. Better than most prisons in regards to how they watch the more dangerous patients. All the guards are trained extensively in self-defense…although you wouldn't guess it when you see the security footage."

Gordon looked down at Turay's body and grimaced, "And still the Joker managed to do all this?"

Stephens shook his head, "That's the strangest part of it, Gordon. He didn't do anything."

The Commissioner did a double-take, "Then who did?"

The detective handed him a folder. Gordon opened it up to see a photo of a young woman paper clipped to an evidence file.

"It was a girl?" James Gordon sifted through the file in disbelief.

"Hope Lee Hanes. Caught torturing one Mickey Russo, a two-bit pimp from the Narrows. She did a real number on him. She also assaulted several of Russo's hookers. Here's the odd thing though, before that…she had no police record anywhere. Not even a god-damn speeding ticket." He told the Commissioner as one of the forensic team handed the detective an evidence bag.

Gordon frowned, "Well, how did she manage to take out eight trained guards and kill Dr. Turay? Shouldn't they have stopped her? And how did she get the bars off the window?"

"Various testimonies from her trial indicate that Hope knew how to fight. No records of where she learned how to, however. And you're right. Those guards should have stopped her. She was just one girl. I don't know, maybe it was dumb luck." Stephens shrugged, "The bars are a different story. The nurses said that ever since Hanes had been allowed to have time outside her cell she would spend it looking out the windows in here. They didn't think anything of it at the time…but Thomas from forensics suspects she was looking for weaknesses in the bars. Arkham is a pretty old place. And let's say that time and the Narrows haven't been especially kind."

"And that was enough that she could just rip off the bars?" Gordon looked at the broken window skeptically.

Stephens lifted up the evidence bag that held the shank that had killed Dr. Turay, "Near as we can figure, she had been using this knife, fashioned from an iron slat from her bed frame, to carve at the deteriorated cement around the bars at the bottom so she could pull them out. The bars were already loose in the cement," He rattled one of the bars on another window, "and so they fell right out."

The Commissioner rubbed his temple; his headache was increasing by the moment.

"This is unacceptable. We have to find them and get them off the streets before they kill anyone else. I won't have the Joker causing another panic. We haven't even begun to recover from everything he did before. The city isn't ready for any more of his games."

"Right there with you, Commissioner."

* * *

Bruce Wayne played the video over and over so many times he had it near memorized. It was all too unbelievable. He'd hoped if he kept watching it something might finally make sense. Bruce looked behind him to see Alfred coming down the lift carrying a tray of food.

"Hello, Alfred."

"Master Bruce." He set the tray down on the table. "Is that the security footage Gordon gave you?"

Bruce nodded, "Yeah. Take a look at this."

He rewound the tape pressed play. The woman spun midair and took out two guards, her foot hit the first man in the chest on her upwards strike and then knocked the other man in the head as she came back down, "That looked like a modified Tae Kwon Do form."

She ran at another guard and grabbed him by the head as she leapt upward to knee him in the face, "Muay Thai."

The woman blocked the fist of a muscular guard several times and responded with a series of quick punches ending with an elbow to his face knocking him to the ground. "That's some derivation of Wing Chun. I think. It's a close-range combat form, using mainly the hands."

She grabbed a man's arm, twisting and flipping him on his back, "Ninjitsu."

He pointed at the screen at various intervals as they watched her dance circles around the guards, "Karate. Possibly Judo. Frankly, I have no idea what that was. And Muay Thai again."

He paused the video and the girl was twisted mid-air in order to dodge a taser shot, "And that… well… I didn't even think the human body could do that."

Alfred frowned, "And now the Joker is loose with this woman?"

Bruce sighed, "So it would seem. It doesn't make sense Alfred. This woman's record before Gotham doesn't mesh with what I am seeing here. There's no evidence showing that Hope Hanes ever learned any martial arts at all. No records of formal training. She would have had to have been trained for years to master even one of the forms she used in that tape. The only extracurricular I can find her ever having was a high school choir when she was sixteen. I know I may not have any record of my training with the League, but it says that Hope never even left her home town until eight months ago and she was in Arkham for four of those. Not to mention that she had no history of mental instability before she tortured that man in the Narrows..."

Alfred looked at the screen carefully, "Perhaps Master Bruce, the solution to your problem is also the simplest one."

"And what is that Alfred?" He leant back in his chair.

"She is not Hope Hanes." Alfred stated plainly, "It's a false identity."

Bruce shook his head, "It's all there though, Alfred. Right down to photo IDs and fingerprints. Hope Hanes has to be her."

"All the same Master Bruce, it wouldn't hurt to look for information on other young women fitting her description. Perhaps one whose history is a bit more congruent with the mental state and physical abilities of the woman that escaped from Arkham." Alfred reasoned.

"Alright, Alfred. While I'm out looking for clues on the Joker's whereabouts, you can do that."

The butler sighed, "I just had to open my mouth didn't I?"

* * *

Angel nearly spit out his morning cup of blood when he turned on the television that morning. It was her.

Faith.

The news report said her name was Hope, but then they showed her mug shot. She wasn't sporting her usual dark red lipstick and black eyeliner, but it was her.

It had been about five years since he had last seen her back in Sunnydale before her coma. After she'd woken up four years ago, he hadn't heard a peep from Faith…Buffy had told him about what happened in Cleveland when she'd found her there last year. A lot had changed. Angel feared Faith might be beyond saving. That didn't mean he wasn't going to try. He was aware that it was a different thing entirely to what he'd gone through...to become so dark and twisted as she had, but still have one's soul through all of it. If Angel couldn't save her, at least he could stop her from killing anyone else.

The reporter said that she had escaped a mental institution in Gotham City with the terrorist that had been all over the news weeks back; the Joker. That was the only reason they were announcing the story on the national news. If it had been just her, it probably wouldn't have even made it to the news ticker at the bottom of the screen sandwiched between some minor political scandal and the latest antics of Britney Spears.

Angel made it to Wolfram & Hart as quickly as inhumanly possible. Once he'd made it there Harmony tried to talk to him about something, but he tuned her out and walked into his office to find Wesley already there waiting for him.

"You saw the news, I take it?" Angel said simply. He walked around his desk to pull various pieces of weaponry out of the desk drawers and a sword off the wall into the duffel bag he'd brought with him.

Wesley nodded solemnly, "So you're going to Gotham, then?"

Angel said nothing to that and continued packing. Then he headed toward the door. Wesley was on his heels.

"Harmony!" Angel yelled. The blonde vampire nearly stabbed herself with her nail file in surprise. She leapt to her feet and straightened out her dress, "Yes, Angel?"

"Get me a plane ticket for a non-stop flight to Gotham." Angel said firmly and then continued walking down the hall.

"I can do that Angel, but you see…" Harmony stopped talking when Angel stared daggers in her direction.

"Angel, I'm coming with you." Wesley said as he ran after him.

"No." Angel spun around, "You're not."

Wesley scowled, "I have as much to do with what that girl has become as anyone, more even because I…"

"Stopped me the one time I actually had a chance at saving her?" Angel supplied scathingly, "That's precisely the reason you're not coming, Wes! I have to do this alone."

Harmony was still standing next to them, "Harmony, what are you doing? Plane ticket, now!"

Harmony sputtered, "But, it's just…we…"

Wesley got in Angel's face, "I am coming whether you want me to or not, Angel. I was her Watcher, damn it! I'm going to Gotham if I have to walk there!"

"Fine, Wes! Fine! Alright!?" Angel relented.

"Oy, what's this about then?" Spike sauntered over to them. Gunn, Fred, and Lorne were close behind. "You two love-birds finally decide to come out as a couple?"

The ex-Watcher sighed and rubbed his temple, "Faith. The Rogue Slayer. We found out where she is. She escaped from a mental facility yesterday in Gotham City."

"A psychotic Slayer escaped from a mental institution?" Gunn asked skeptically, "I feel like we've already been through this…"

"Faith is nothing like Dana." Angel frowned.

"So you want me to come too? I have a pretty good record when it comes to killing Slayers." Spike crossed his arms smugly.

"No one is killing anybody, Spike. And you most definitely are not coming."

"Probably for the best. My last encounter with a psycho Slayer didn't end particularly well." Spike flexed his hands and shuddered.

Angel looked back to Harmony who was on the phone, "Harmony, make it two plane tickets, for me and Wes."

She hung up the phone and smiled, "But…"

"What, Harmony? Just get the tickets!"

Harmony sighed, "I've been trying to tell you, Angel! Geez! First of all, I would have to buy tickets for nighttime flight, so you would have to wait anyways! A plane has windows! You wouldn't want to burst into flames and totally ruin that nice Armani jacket of yours, would you? But, that doesn't matter because what I was _trying_ to tell you is that Wolfram & Hart has a private jet, dummy. I just called and they are going to have it ready and fueled by the time you arrive…"

The blonde crossed her arms expectantly.

Angel was sort of impressed, if not a little put out by being called dumb by Harmony of all people, "Uh, thank you… Harmony. Really. Um…err…maybe when we get back we can discuss getting you a raise?"

Harmony squealed and ran up to hug him, "Oh! Thank you, Angel! Thank you!"

"Keep hugging me and I may change my mind."

She quickly untangled herself. She was still smiling as she walked off, "Oh, just wait until Jane in Accounting hears about this! That dumb witch!"

"So should somebody contact the Watcher's Council like last time? Tell them about her, in case they didn't already know?" Gunn looked around at the group.

"No." Both Angel and Wesley said simultaneously.

Angel scowled, "I don't want them there. They'll just do something stupid like they did with Faith last time. Especially now that Buffy is…"

He didn't even want to say it. It just made it harder.

"…I don't trust the Council, whether there are new people running it now or not. They may already know, but I don't want to help them out if they don't. I need a head start to get to Faith first. I need to see if it's still possible to get through to her."

He had to believe there was still a chance.

"Well good luck, Peaches. Try not to get staked. Or go ahead if you like, but I was sort of hoping I could do the honors one day." Spike smirked, lighting a cigarette as he left.

Wesley came up next to him. "I'll get everything I need and meet you downstairs."

Angel started to head toward the elevator and a very irritating gentleman stopped his advance. He really didn't want to talk to him right now.

"Hamilton."

The clean-cut man looked on as Angel's team dispersed, "I couldn't help but overhear."

"Good for you. Now get out of my way." The vampire snarled.

"Of course, Angel. I have no intention of stopping you. That Faith Lehane. She's a real piece of work. The Senior Partners would have loved to have her as a part of their team. But they understand that her fate is in your hands. They wouldn't dream of keeping you from her." Marcus Hamilton stated calmly.

"Good." He made to leave.

"Not so fast, Angel. The Partners want you to understand that this relationship is not a one-way street. You do not simply take our money and resources and make no attempt at providing services for the company in return. Now, if you have changed your mind about that agreement the Partners would be more than willing to end your contract and retract any and all deals made. Including the one made about your son…"

Angel stiffened.

"Ah." Hamilton smiled, "So do we have an understanding?"

"What do you want?" Angel asked brusquely.

"Gotham City is one of the few major metropolises where we do not have a branch office. And, since you are already heading there… we have a potential client we would like you to speak with, and do try to be hospitable, won't you?" Hamilton handed him a suitcase, "You'll find all the information you need in here."

Angel opened the suitcase to see who the client was, but was distracted by a large medallion seated on top of the pile of papers. He lifted the necklace out of the suitcase examining it carefully, "What is this?"

Hamilton leaned in, "I suggest you wear it during the duration of your stay in Gotham City."

Angel didn't sense anything special about the pendant, "Why?"

"Need to know basis only, Mr. Angel. You are more than welcome not to wear it, but I think you may find the experience most… unpleasant." He smiled knowingly and walked away.

Angel shook his head, placing the necklace back in the suitcase. Angel already knew that stopping Faith was going to be a challenge, but the fact that the Senior Partners seemed so interested left him unsettled.

He had a very bad feeling about all of this.


	5. Let Yourself Go

_Disclaimer:Not mine._

_A/N:Thanks for all the reviews! :) Here's a new chapter, I don't know when I will be able to get to this and my other story because I am moving to New Hampshir for Grad School. So I will be busy moving, packing, etc. for a while and then I've got to start worrying about classes. Once I get settled I'll try and get some chapters out as soon as I can._

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* * *

He was anything if not patient. He would find another way.

They had taken a serious blow a year ago, but they were rebuilding. Recent events had proved that Bruce Wayne was merely delaying the inevitable, just like his father had. The city was decaying and needed to be destroyed.

Wayne could stop every criminal and serial killer he came across, but that didn't solve the root of the problem. 'Batman' was trimming the branches when they needed to be destroying the root. Wayne was just too blind and naïve to see it.

They would find another way, eventually.

One of his men came to kneel before him, "There is someone here to see you, Ducard."

Odd. He wasn't expecting anyone. Ra's al Ghul nodded to his hidden assassins to be on guard, "Let them in."

He turned to greet the visitor.

"You're still going by Ducard? I thought you would have changed it twenty times since I saw you last." A cultured voice echoed through the temple walls.

"I have. But I do like to return to old favorites." Ra's al Ghul smiled genially as the man approached, "It's been a while, Ripper."

"It's just Rupert now, Ra's."

"So I've heard. The Head of the Watcher's Council, now? Hmm…I'm impressed." Ra's came to stand in front of the man, "Especially considering hardly five year's ago you were fired by the Watcher's Council. What was it again? For being too lenient with your Slayer? A decision I must say I wholeheartedly agreed with…"

"Yes. Life is full of these little quirks." Rupert Giles responded caustically.

"Yes. I suppose it is." Ghul rubbed his beard, "What brings you to Bhutan? I hardly think a man of your stature is here on a merely social visit."

"I need to enlist your services." Rupert took off his glasses solemnly.

He laughed, "Whatever for? You have an entire army of Slayers at your beck and call now. I'm sure they could perform whatever task you needed. Kill whoever you need killing."

Rupert's eyes hardened, "No. I don't want them involved with this. I don't even want them to know about this."

"Still too soft on them I see."

Giles put his glasses back on, "You don't know the first thing about me."

Ra's smiled, "What is it you wish of the League of Shadows?"

The Watcher reached into his pocket to pull out a small picture which he handed over to him. It was a picture of a group of teenagers smiling and laughing for the camera. Rupert Giles himself stood at the center. He recognized most of the teens as being a part of Rupert's inner circle.

They all looked so harmless; it was hard to believe they were some of the most powerful people in the world. He'd been keeping tabs on all them for quite some time.

First in the photo was the illustrious Buffy Anne Summers. The fact the a blonde girl with the name 'Buffy' could strike fear into the hearts of anyone, let alone the forces of darkness, really said something about the extraordinary warrior that woman had been.

Lying across her lap was a floppy-haired boy with goofy grin plastered on his face. Alexander Harris. He had heard great things about the now one-eyed Xander Harris from his men in Africa.

Across from Xander was a red-headed girl in a god-awful pink fluffy sweater. She had her arms around another boy. It was Willow Rosenburg. The witch. The power she wielded was astronomical. He would never tell Giles of course, but he had men prepared to assassinate her the moment she even mentioned doing black magic again. The only reason he hadn't already instructed them to kill her was out of a respect for the man standing before him now.

The boy Rosenburg had her arms around was someone that Ra's al Ghul had actually met once before. He'd spoken with him in Tibet. Daniel Osbourne. Or as the boy had said, _"Just Oz"_. He was one of the calmest and most centered people Ra's had ever met. That was really saying something considering Ghul's age. One would never guess that Mr. Osbourne had a caged monster crawling around inside him.

There were two other brunette women in the picture, as well. One was wearing a plaid mini-skirt and posing for the camera like she was trying out for Miss America. He didn't recognize her face, but he could guess that it was the late Cordelia Chase, the seer for the Powers that Be.

The final girl, circled in red marker, was giving Giles 'bunny-ears' and kissing him on the cheek. Rupert had a look of complete shock plastered on his face. It would have been delightfully amusing if not for the fact that Ra's al Ghul recognized this girl as well.

"Faith Lehane."

Giles sighed, "I will pay you whatever you want. I would have liked to save her. Buffy wouldn't have wanted this. But she's killed so many and with no indication of remorse. I can't reconcile that. Not anymore. She needs to be dealt with. I….just…it's gone on too long."

"You want us to kill her? I didn't know you still had it in you, Ripper."

"Don't." Rupert said threateningly. Then, the Watcher continued, "We haven't been able to determine her location for months. We suspect she has something to cloak her from any magical detection. But, where magic failed, it would seem the media circuit prevailed. She escaped from an asylum in Gotham City roughly 26 hours ago." Giles looked at him critically, "A place of which, I believe, you are familiar."

"I am." Ra's scowled, "And I still hold to what I said before, Rupert. A Slayer has gone rogue. Don't you think she should be taken care of by her own?

"No. Faith is precisely the reason I can't let my girls overstep those bounds. Don't argue semantics with me when it comes to this Ra's. I already know your stance when it comes to killing. Which is why I came to you. But those girls, the things they have to face on a daily basis….all that death and destruction. They need that line! They need a line they will never be asked to cross. No matter what. It's the one thing that keeps them human. Keeps them sane."

"And what makes you think one of my assassins can take on a rogue Slayer?" Ra's al Ghul motioned to the men positioned strategically around the room.

"I don't expect them to. I expect _you_ to." Giles stated matter-of-factly.

"Me?" He laughed, "You must be joking."

"You really think I don't know about youl? Faith might be stronger and faster…but you're smarter and more experienced. You can beat her. And if you can't…you do have that uncanny ability of coming back from the dead." Rupert's face remained impassive.

"Do I?" Ghul responded evasively.

Giles wasn't fooled, "You know the locations of the Lazarus pits. Or do you expect me to believe you managed to live nearly six hundred years by healthy diet and regular exercise alone?"

"Very good, Ripper. You did your homework."

He would have been a formable member of the League in his prime. It was too bad Rupert had turned him down all those years ago.

"I will do this for you. But do not come back here or ask anything of me ever again. You do and I will kill you, Ripper. I don't care who your friends are."

Rupert nodded, "I understand."

Ra's al Ghul watched the man leave, "Rupert?"

The man turned toward him as he reached the temple doors.

"I heard about what happened in Sunnydale. Against the First Evil. She was a fine warrior and she died an honorable death."

"An honorable death? If you really believed such platitudes, Ra's al Ghul, you would never have sought immortality." Rupert Giles said nothing more and walked out of the temple and into the freezing tundra.

* * *

"If I had known you were so famous I would have left you there." Faith sighed as she watched the news that had been reporting their escape for hours. She fell back on the dilapidated couch. "Completely fucked over my entire plan. I'd been waiting in there four months so I could escape in a way that wouldn't make national headlines. And what do I do? I help a superstar terrorist escape with me because I thought he looked like _fun_."

"And I am. Fun." The Joker spoke from the other room.

"Well whoopty-shit for you. This is just what I get for actually caring about anyone but myself."

"You care about me? How sweet." The Joker entered the living room as he pulled on a purple overcoat. "So whadda ya think?" He spun around to show her his outfit and then pointed at his now made-up face.

"Very dapper," Faith hopped over the back of the couch to stand in front of him, "Dapper Dan even."

She grabbed at the lapels of his coat and pulled him closer, "Not many men can pull off purple. But it suits you."

"I'm not many men. I actually don't know that I would even consider myself a man at all." He smiled.

Faith rolled her eyes, "How philosophical. Seems to me you got all the right equipment. Certainly know how to use it, I might add." She paused thoughtfully, "Well okay, so maybe that is a _bit_ different than the typical male. But the point still stands. I can tell what's human and what's not."

She pushed away from him and headed toward the kitchen, "You're sure no one knows about this place?"

Faith opened the cabinet to a lone box of Lucky Charms that had expired last month. She opened the box to find it stale, but bug free. She shrugged, "Still good."

She shuffled through the rest of the kitchen in search of a bowl and spoon.

"It was a safe house owned by the Chechen for his drug deals. He won't be needing it."

"Gang members? Well, that explains the semi-automatic in the silverware drawer," she showed him the gun with a smirk and put it into the back of her leather pants, "Not to mention that I'm pretty sure all of these spoons have a cocaine residue on them."

Faith opted to just eat the cereal straight from the box, she didn't feel like having her Lucky Charms _that lucky. _

The Joker eyed her black mid-riff showing tank top and form-fitting leather pants as she came back from the kitchen, "They must have had brought a few hookers here, judging by those clothes you found while I was gone."

She set the Lucky Charms box down on the table, "I bought these clothes with that drunk's money," Faith looked down at herself. "And what's wrong with my clothes? You better not be saying I look like a whore…"

"You do." The Joker goaded her.

Faith flew at him in a flash pulling out the gun and pressing it against his head. She found that he had a knife already at her throat in defense. "I'm not a whore!"

"You use your body to get what you want. That sounds like a whore to me." The Joker was clearly enjoying getting a rise out of her.

She cracked the barrel of the gun over his head, causing his knife to cut her neck slightly as he fell to the ground. He clutched his head and starting laughing.

Faith just stood there puzzled at his reaction, "You don't want to piss me off Jay! I can rip your head right off your fucking shoulders! I am not a whore! I'm a nymphomaniac. It's different…. I think." She motioned the gun around in a tired motion, "Well… I don't get paid. And I have standards with who I actually would…" she stopped and shook her head as she turned away from him, "Ya know what? Forget it…"

"I think you may want to go ahead and add bipolar to the nymphomania there, Faith." He rubbed bruised skull and got to his feet.

"Like you should talk."

Faith walked over to a mirror to examine the cut on her neck with a frown.

"Definitely should have left you. But really, I gotta jet before people come looking for me. They are plastering my picture all over the national news next to yours, so the fake name just ain't gonna cut it anymore. There are people out that could actually stop me. People that would make sure I was locked up for the rest of my natural born life. Cause they're too _good_ to just kill me and get it over with." Faith grabbed Harold's leather jacket from off the table.

"That's no way to be…Faith…running at the first sign of danger. Someone might think you were a _coward._" He licked his lips as he sidestepped over to her, keeping his knife ready at his side.

"Well _someone_…" she jabbed a finger in his direction, "can go fuck themselves."

She pulled on the jacket and sifted for the pack of cigarettes in the pocket, "Look it _was_ fun. You were fun. I look forward to seeing you blow shit up on the television. But I'm leaving."

"I think you should stay. These…people…they know you're here….so what? Let them come. What's life without a little risk? Hmm?" He spun his knife in his hand.

"I'm all for risk. But there is a difference between risk and just down-right stupidity. You don't know these people. They make Batman look like…..Sponge-Bob Square Pants. I'm not scared of them. I'm just playing this rational here. They know I'm here. Then here is where I don't want to be. I like being free. And for the record you're probably gonna want to get the hell outta Dodge yourself. Or else some blonde-bimbo by the name of Buffy is going to be coming to your door to deliver a hearty helping of fist to your face."

"Buffy?" The Joker just started laughing, "Scary…"

Faith glared at him, "Laugh it up, clown-boy. You won't think it's so funny when she's breaking your legs…then again, maybe you might…"

The Joker clucked disapproval, "First of all. I don't think you give Batman enough credit. Also, I believe it's a fair assumption that he doesn't live in a pineapple under the sea." He looked thoughtful for a second about that, then continued, "Secondly-", he brought a gloved hand up to her mouth to stop her from rebuttal, "You…you have a gift, Faith. You should use it. None of this covert nonsense, in back alleys', scurrying about and then running at the first sign of real danger. You say you want to be free. What you are doing isn't freedom. You've let them…whoever they are… capture you already. You even let yourself stay locked in an institution because of them. I can offer you the chance to truly liberate yourself. Here. With me. Let them come. Then…we can show _them_ what you can do when you really let yourself go. If they stop you…. at least you can go out with a _bang._"

Faith bit her bottom lip in thought, "You sorta remind me of someone, I didn't notice it till now…"

"And who's that? Some infamous mass murderer?" The Joker leaned in close and placed a hand on the wall behind her.

"Elected official." She smirked. "Was a mayor, actually."

The Joker grimaced, "That was about the worst thing you could have said."

"He tried to kill the entire graduating class of a high school. I hear he managed to kill quite a few of them! Does that help?" She added with amusement apparent in her heavy lidded eyes.

"A little…" he shrugged and looked a bit sullen, "But really? A mayor?"

"If you had known him you wouldn't think it was so unflattering. He was wicked. Honest." Faith brought a hand around his neck to twirl his green hair in her fingers, "But I'm sorry if I upset you. Maybe… I can make it up to you?"

She felt his hand at the small of her back. That alone was enough to make her flush with anticipation.

"Does that mean you're gonna stay?" He brought his knife up to her face tracing her cheekbones lightly, to which she swatted the blade away like one would an annoying fly.

"Yeah. You've sold me…. as long as I get to blow some shit up." Faith brought both her arms around his neck, "How about a church? On a Sunday? In the middle of a mass? I'd love to see a bunch of nuns running around with their habits on fire…."

"Oooh", The Joker grabbed her roughly, "I like where your head is at."

"I think you'll like where it's at in a few minutes even better." She replied hoarsely.

"I bet you're right."


	6. When Normal Isn't

_Disclaimer: I don't own Batman or BtVS. If I did...well I wouldn't be posting stories on a fanfiction site would I? No, I'd be swimming in giant vats of money practicing my Scrooge McDuck impression._

_A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update. I just moved and I just started grad school, so that sort of takes precedence over this, unfortunately. But, I'm making up for it by having a really long chapter. Enjoy. :) And thanks to skyefather for beta-ing this chapter for me!_

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Angel fiddled with the strange pendant around his neck. Something about this town just felt off.

"It's very odd. Not a single record of a supernatural incident happening in Gotham City. For a city of this size, it doesn't seem possible. But there aren't any questionable deaths, at least not the sort of 'questionable' we're used to." Wesley continued after double checking the file, "No exsanguinations by barbecue forks, and no spontaneous combustion; that sort of thing. The crime rate is still significant; but no apparent demonic activity has been evident, unless you count this Batman character. Although from what I've heard he's just a normal man, apart from his bat fetish."

Angel grunted, "Hamilton seemed to know more about it than he was willing to tell, big surprise. Then there's his insistence that I wear this necklace."

Wesley brought the car up along the curb outside the restaurant. It was about eight o'clock and the sun had finally set.

"Near as I can tell from researching those symbols, the necklace serves as some sort of protection that shields the wearer from negative outside stimuli. It deters magical intrusion of any sort. Might suggest leaving it on. We don't know what has caused the lack of demon activity in Gotham. Wouldn't want to find out the hard way that something here kills them off, would we?" Wes smiled in jest then his face shifted quickly taciturn, probably having remembered the reason they were here.

Wes turned off the engine and the car came to rest. He steeled himself as he looked over at Angel, "Just what are you planning to do when we find her, Angel?"

"I don't know. I'll figure something out." Angel stated with scowl, "Hopefully this little errand run the Senior Partners put us on won't take up any more of our time after this …"

Unlikely, but he could hope.

They got out of the car and made their way to the entrance. Two bouncers held them at the door.

"Who are you?" The hairier of the two large men grunted at them and flexed his bulky arms "What business ya's got here?"

Wesley gave him a cold stare and straightened his tie, "We're with Wolfram & Hart. I believe that Mr. Maroni is expecting us?"

* * *

"Do you like it?" The Joker leaned over Faith's shoulder expectantly. The young woman was staring down at the present in awe. "I had to kill three hunting supply store attendants before I found it."

"I love it! It's exactly like my old one!" She pulled the large knife out of the box a big grin plastered on her face, "Wicked."

She tested the Jackal in her hand with a flourish. The Joker watched her admiration of the knife with some admiration of his own. _Faith_, he chuckled, that name was just about as ironic as _Hope_.

She stood up and spun the large knife in her palm with practiced ease.

His _Slayer_.

It was all very odd, him and her, her and him. Him and her getting along like… normal people.

It was normal men that gave normal women gifts. It was normal men that waited expectantly for said normal women's gratitude; normally.

It was that familiarity in their fledgling relationship that all so very… not normal, just by the simple fact that neither one of them were anything even approaching normal.

And yet here they were being all…'domestic'.

The thought alone made him want to disembowel a newlywed couple, just to prove he wasn't going soft.

The Joker didn't give people 'gifts'. Not gifts they wanted. He wasn't the only one on the wrong side of this messed-up equation. Faith certainly didn't seem the type that a regular guy would have the courage to dote upon and she would probably rip their arms off if they tried.

And she could. Rip someone's arms off, that was. That fact was mystifying and, he had to confess, a tad bit exciting. It felt like he was playing with fire just by being near her. Instability and lethality was a combination he could always appreciate, whether it was explosives or in a woman.

She was a vampire Slayer. The Chosen One. He would have questioned that in any other situation. He prided himself on understanding the way the world worked. Demons and vampires didn't factor into his previous notions of the world he thought he knew. He always felt people were monsters enough that such things were hardly necessary.

The existence of real tried and true demons was ridiculous. Wasn't it?

It would have been, if he hadn't seen her bend a crowbar with her bare hands. While she certainly wasn't short on muscle-tone, there was no way she could manage that without the addition of something supernatural.

The Joker was an accepting kind of guy. He'd certainly seen some things in his time that would lend some weight to Faith's theory. Still, he would have to wait until he actually met a demon before accepting it whole-heartedly, but in the meantime he'd take her at her word.

She'd said she'd been chosen to fight 'the forces of darkness'. Then Faith had laughed and said, _"The Powers that Be must've been token' some seriously good shit the day they picked me as a Slayer."  
"Not that you'll see me complaining" _she'd added.

Faith was supposed to be a force for good. He thought that was simply brilliant. Just more proof that no one, not even someone chosen by a higher power was exempt from evil.

Just one little push to get from saint to sinner that had been all it took for his Faith.

"Did you know I got stabbed in the gut with my old knife?" She whistled, "And let me tell you something J that shit fucking hurt like hell."

She lifted her shirt to show him the small scar along her stomach. He'd seen it before. He'd thought it might have been a knife wound. He certainly hadn't thought it was from a knife of that size, however.

A stab wound from a knife like the one she was holding in that specific area of her body should have been fatal. He should know.

"I imagine it did _'F'_-uh." He replied as he watched her rock back and forth with the knife wrapped tightly in her hand.

"And then I fell off a building into the bed of a moving truck," she added as an afterthought. "Well, actually, I sort of jumped off the building. But still…ouch, right?"

The Joker smirked. She was a resilient little thing, wasn't she? The more he learned of her the more he felt...

He wasn't sure he'd call it _love_. He liked to think he was above that sort of idiocy.

But she was something alright.

He adjusted his jacket and fixed his sleeve cuffs. "So, ready for a night out on the town? Got some friends I'd like you to _meet_."

She pocketed the Jackal with a grin, "Lead on, hot stuff."

* * *

Batman's search was leading him nowhere. He'd spent the whole night looking through abandoned warehouses and possible mob houses in hopes that something might lead him to the Joker. The last house on his list he found occupied, but unfortunately not by the person he was looking for.

There were two men in the living room. The first was a tall man in a black trench coat and the second was a distinguished looking man in a brown leather coat and blue button up shirt. They were searching through the house. Batman knelt in the shadows on the balcony and listened into their conversation.

"She was here, Wes." The larger man said, "And a man. I can only assume it was this Joker. I could enter, so I guess we can assume the owner is dead. It also means they aren't planning on setting up camp here, unfortunately."

He could enter only if the owner of the house was dead? Batman filed that bit of information in the back of his mind, it didn't make any sense now, but maybe it would later.

"We just missed them. They were here just a few hours ago. And…" the man stopped with a grimace.

"W-What is it, Angel?" The other man asked in a cultured voice.

"They were…" the man, Angel, shook his head. "I can smell that they were…" he coughed with embarrassment, "You know…"

The other man's brow furrowed in confusion then realization dawned.

"Oh. Oh! Yes, well." He rubbed his neck uncomfortably, "Apparently she hasn't changed in that respect, then."

Batman scowled. Who were these people? And how could this man tell these things? He wasn't sure what to think. Maybe they were crazy. That would certainly make more sense than any other alternative he could think of. The man, 'Angel' scanned the room as he paced around it broodingly. He neared the window where Batman was kneeling and Angel visibly tensed.

He couldn't possibly have seen him.

"We have company." Angel turned to look right where he was kneeling in the shadows.

Batman's eyes narrowed. Just who were these people?

"What you heard was right, Wes. He's human." Angel said to his companion.

"Who is? What are you talking-" Wes stopped mid-sentence when Batman came out of his hiding place and slipped through the window to stand menacingly in front of the pair. Neither of them seemed very intimidated. In fact, Angel looked ready to laugh. Batman's eyes narrowed.

"Who are you? What do you know about the Joker?" He demanded gruffly.

Angel frowned, "Who am I? I'm not the one wearing the mask, buddy. And I gotta say…_nice outfit_. The fact that you can actually intimidate anyone in that getup… kudos, really."

Batman moved closer his eyes shooting daggers at the other man. Angel crossed his arms nearing him just as confrontationally.

The British man sighed at their posturing, "We don't have time for this. Faith could be miles from here by now…"

"Who's Faith?"

The two men looked at him like one would a dim-witted child. Batman didn't know whether to be angry or just insanely curious about the treatment he was receiving from these two.

Angel shook his head in aggravation, "Look, I get it. You're Gotham City's guardian, I've got my own city too, so I can relate, maybe we can start a club or something. And, I know you and this Joker have got a history, but here's the thing, I don't care. I don't care who you think you are or what you think you know. I'm here to get the girl that broke the Joker out. So be a smart little _bat_ and stay out of my way, alright?"

Batman was floored by this man's arrogance, "Why should I? Like you said, this is my town."

He had a feeling this man was very used to being in charge and didn't like to take a back seat to anyone. It was just too bad that Batman was the same way and wasn't about to let this strange man just waltz in and order him around. Angel used his finger to push Bruce pointedly in the chest-plate, "You don't have the first clue what you're getting into with _Hope Hanes_. We do. We'll be taking it from here. Got it?"

Batman bristled.

"What makes you think you can handle her and the Joker any better than I can?"

Angel just smiled, "For starters I don't need to dress up in a costume to frighten people."

They continued to have a stare down, neither one giving the other ground. Batman was ready to punch that smirk right off Angel's face when he heard the man's companion sigh again, "Is this really necessary? I see enough of this with you and Spike back in L.A. It's not helping anything."

"Oh, I don't know. It's certainly making me feel better." Angel's eyes darkened.

The other man frowned in disapproval. He came to stand between them clearly not wanting their stare down to escalate any further. He gave a warning look to his friend and turned back in his direction, "Mr.…uh, Batman. You'll have to excuse Angel. What he means to say is that we are familiar with Miss Hanes in the same way perhaps you are with this 'Joker' character. We have dealt with her previously and feel that we have a better handle on how to approach her than you yourself might. I've heard a few less than savory things about you, murder included, but I've been led to believe your intentions are for the most part honorable…and, in this case I think similar to ours. So we've no reason to be enemies, unless of course you plan on preventing us from doing what we came here to do. And that is getting Hope. That means taking her alive."

Angel grumbled, "That's not what I meant to say at all Wes…We don't need his help and I think he's a fu-" Wesley coughed loudly cutting him off.

"We will be in town until such time as she is caught or we discover she has left Gotham City altogether. If you get any leads on Hope's location it would be in your best interests to contact us first." He pulled out a card and scribbled a phone number on the back and handed it to him casually.

Batman blinked in surprise as he took the business card. People didn't usually deal with him so formally. He turned the card around in his hand.

_Wesley Wyndam-Pryce  
Wolfram & Hart, Attorneys at Law_

"You're lawyers?"

This just got stranger and stranger.

"Not quite." Wesley replied coolly. Both men walked toward the door. Angel turned on his heels to face Batman just as exited the doorway, "See ya around."

Batman just let them go as he stared down at the card in his gloved hand. He gave a dismissive shake of his head and then he went to work searching the apartment.

It wasn't ten minutes after the two had left that Batman found what he'd been searching for. The trash can was empty save a small crumpled up piece of paper.

The two _'not quite'_ lawyers clearly hadn't noticed it. Apparently the prominent browed man's keen senses didn't include seeing those things that were right in front of his face.

He pulled it out of the trash and flattened it out on the table. It was an article that had been ripped haphazardly from the front page of a week old issue of the Gotham Gazette. The headline read: "Maroni Released from Hospital, Trial Still Pending for Involvement in Joker Terrorist Attacks."

The Mob Boss would probably get off, no doubt. It was hard not to get cynical with the law system sometimes. As much as he hated when it didn't work properly, it was a necessary process. Even if it didn't always work out the way he wished it would. Bruce could practically hear Rachel telling him so whenever his resolve would slip.

And look where that faith in 'the law' had gotten her?

It was almost as if the Joker too had crept into his thoughts, a foil to Rachel's ever present voice of his conscious. Rachel Dawes had been the love of his life. She had made him a better man and now she was dead…because of him.

He could tell himself that it was the Joker and Maroni who'd planned it, but the Joker had been the product of Batman's influence on the city. He'd been the underworld's response to his crime-fighting vigilantism. Rachel's death was Batman's fault, his cross to bear.

No. He wasn't about to let the Joker do any more damage than he had to Gotham City and its people, while Bruce sat around and wallowed in guilt. He was going to find the Joker now before it was too late.

He looked back at the newspaper article. This felt like a trap, God knew it had to be.

Calculating bastard that he was, the Joker had to have known Batman would find this place eventually, regardless of how guarded the locations of the mob safe houses were. The Joker had wanted him to find the article. He wanted him to know where he was going. The knowledge that he was playing right into the Joker's hands wouldn't change the fact that he had to go. The Joker would be there and so that was where he needed to be. He'd just have to be careful.

It was time to pay a visit to Sal Maroni.

The warning of Mr. Pryce echoed in the back of his head and he ignored it. What reason did he have to believe the man?

Then, what reason did he have not to? The Joker knew he'd find the newspaper. There was something the Joker knew that he didn't. He looked at the business card once more in contemplation.

Batman didn't have time to call up these people only to find out they were nut jobs. He also didn't trust them as far as Alfred could throw them. He put the card back into the pouch of his belt and headed out the window.

Besides, he was sure he could handle it on his own.

* * *

Maroni was a bit tense to say the least. He'd only got out of the hospital a week prior and had only just started picking up the pieces of his 'business' after that mess with the Joker.

Just when he thought maybe things might start getting back to normal, the Joker was loose again. He never thought he'd wish the Gotham City Police Department was a bit more effective.

That was part of the reason he'd been on the look out for some better protection. His boys were good, but he didn't trust them. Using the right words and motivation, the Joker might get them to betray him. He didn't get to where he was by trusting people. No, sometimes it paid to be paranoid.

When he'd gotten the call from Wolfram & Hart, he'd certainly been interested in securing their services for his pending trial. Following the past month's 'incidents' the number of judges and police officers he had in his pocket might not be enough to protect him from a jail sentence. He wasn't going to take any chances. He'd heard very good things about Wolfram & Hart's ability to get anyone off for the right price and Maroni most certainly could pay.

Then they'd thrown in the offer of reliable protection. He'd been skeptical at first. How the hell could a law firm protect him from the Joker? But Marcus Hamilton had been very convincing over the phone, as had the two men he'd just met with. Wolfram & Hart had special-ops and surveillance abilities that made the Pentagon look like a hastily boarded up plastic Playskool house. Why a law firm had such things he'd didn't know. He was pretty sure he was better off not knowing.

He'd met with the CEO of their L.A. branch earlier this evening. Mr. Angel hadn't been what he'd been expecting, but his companion had fit the bill of the pencil pushing bureaucrat he'd imagined, or maybe that was just because of the accent.

The two of them had been strangely interested in his previous relationship with the Joker and wouldn't say why. That had made him slightly uncomfortable at first. They didn't seem to want to have anything to do with the Joker in the professional sense, so it didn't seem too relevant.

Angel also hadn't been very subtle in his dislike of Maroni, but their offer was solid. Sal wasn't about to back down on a deal that would give him a better chance of remaining not only out of prison, but very much alive just because the CEO of the company was a douche-bag.

They had made a deal, and now Maroni was officially a client of Wolfram & Hart. They'd be sending in his protection post-haste. He wished they were here already.

"Feelin' alright, hun?" a voice asked. A girl who was dressed in a skimpy school-girl outfit cooed as she glided around to fall into his lap.

The boys thought they would cheer him up with a party and a couple high-class strippers. It was helping a little, but he was still just waiting for the Joker to pop out of the wood work.

"I'm fine."

Sal didn't doubt that the Joker had plans to kill him like he done to the other mob bosses, just to prove once and for all that Gotham was his city. Maroni could only hope that the Joker would need him for something that would keep him alive long enough for his newest allies to make an appearance or perhaps for the Batman to stop him.

Since when did he root for the good guys? Especially for a freak who'd dropped him off a building?

In the end it came down to rooting for whichever side would keep him in business and alive the longest. Oh yes, alive was a definite plus.

The woman turned to straddle him tightly, bringing her chest right in front of his face. In any other circumstance, he'd be enjoying the hell out of this. He wished someone would just blow the Joker's brains out already. God knows he would do it if he was given the opportunity.

She looked down at him, and tucked a strand of her gaudy bubble-gum pink wig behind her ear, "Don't look fine. Making me think I ain't very good at my job. You're as tense as someone getting a lap dance from their grandma."

Maroni laughed at that, she wasn't like any grandmother he had ever seen. The girl smiled back at his laughter, "There ya go."

He couldn't imagine his _nonna_ dressing like that or that she would have anything like the assortment of tribal tattoos this girl had on her arm, collarbone, and at the small of her back. Frankly, he really didn't want to imagine it.

This girl was a step above the broads he was used to seeing; maybe he'd have her stick around for an 'after-party'. She proceeded to writhe over him for several more minutes before proceeding to a group of his more intoxicated men.

He grabbed his drink and swilled a bit of the potent liquor in his mouth before swallowing it. He was actually starting to enjoy himself, that alone should have been the first clue that something was about to go terribly wrong.

Sal was fiddling with the rings on his fingers when he heard a commotion at the entrance to the bar. Several women could be heard screaming and running away, and he was fairly sure he could hear several men doing the same. He could make out a purple suit and mass of green hair bobbing through the crowd.

Maroni swore under his breath and motioned for his men to intercept the Joker and the group he'd brought with him. They looked to be what remained of the Chechen and Gambol's men with a smattering of others.

Salvatore gripped his cane tightly and pushed himself out of his seat. He still had healing injuries from the car crash, not to mention his leg from that incident with Batman, but he bolted towards the back exit with a speed of a man half his age. He would have made it there too had his legs not inexplicably fallen out from under him. Maroni felt a painful crack as his head collided with the floor.

A few moments later he heard a feminine moan come from next to him. Dazed he turned to find another figure seated on the floor alongside him looking equally out of sorts.

It was the stripper. She looked just about as panicked as he felt, not that he would ever show it. The dumb bitch had run into him! If he got out of this alive he would make sure she would be properly taken care of for the risk she'd put his life in, not to mention the indignity he felt from falling to the ground like a dumb oaf.

"It's the Joker! Oh god! This...this isn't happening!" She squealed and started to inch behind him in fear as the man in question came to stand in front of him. As if he would protect her.

Salvatore gathered his wits about him and slowly got to his feet.

"Going somewhere Maroni? I only wanted to drop in to say hello."

The green-haired bane of his existence waved a gloved hand at him with a manic grin, "Hel-lo."

"What'da you want?" Maroni growled out much braver than he felt.

The Joker looked around at the club, "I heard you were having a party. Me? I love parties."

Maroni's men brought out their guns flanking him. Sal had his own gun ready at his side.

"And well, uh, I was… bored." The Joker scratched his dirty green hair and shrugged haphazardly, "Plus, there's the whole, uh, teensy-weensy, itsy-bitsy little issue of you, I don't know, _betraying_ me to Gordon. 'Member that? Yes? And you call yourself a criminal," Joker said, clucking his tongue "running to the cops like a scared little lapdog."

The Joker shook his head and crossed his arms with a child-like disapproval.

"If I hadn't, I would be lying in the same river you dumped the Chechen and Gambol in. I did what needed to be done. I'm no fool, Joker." Maroni said defiantly.

The clown started to snigger uncontrollably and his whole body shook violently. He stopped laughing just as abruptly as he'd begun and inched closer with his shotgun swaying back and forth. Maroni's men tightened their grip on their guns with his every step he took. Sal brought up his gun right into the Joker's scarred face.

The Joker didn't appear all that worried by the loaded gun that was just inches from his head. He just smiled back at him eerily. Maroni was about to pull the trigger, when the Joker distracted him by asking, "So Sally, can I call you Sally? You wouldn't happen to wan'ta know how I got these scars, would ya?"

Maroni was about say the he could not call him Sally and that he didn't give a shit how the freak had gotten his scars, when he felt something cold and metallic press roughly against the back of his skull. His comeback faded away before it even reached his lips.

"Feelin' alright, hun?" A voice asked mockingly from behind him.

The stripper passed the gun through his hair as she came to into his field of vision; her naïve persona was now but a memory. Some of his men quickly transitioned to pointing their guns at the woman.

The Joker smirked at her. "I'm fine, sweetie. Thanks for asking, and you?"

Her face scrunched up at the term of endearment, "_Sweetie? _Why don't you go the full distance and just call me 'Sugar Pie Honey Bunch'?" she snorted.

Sal had to admit he was just as perplexed, likely more so, by the Joker's words. It felt as though the entire world had just turned on its head. He knew a woman had escaped with him, but he didn't think. No woman in their right mind would be with that freak. Course that was the crux of it wasn't it; she wasn't in her right mind.

Almost as if to prove that point, she slid off her pink wig letting down her dark brown locks and she glanced over her shoulder to look at one of the men aiming his gun at her. She looked contemplative for a second, and then sat the wig on top of the large man's head with a plop.

She winked at the bewildered man, "That's a good look for you,"

Maroni saw this as an opportunity to get out of the path of her firearm, as he shuffled backward her gun followed his every step despite that fact that she couldn't possibly have seen his movements.

He started to inch forward again and the gun remained trained on him. The Joker looked on in mild amusement.

"My Faith is a girl of, uh, many talents you could say…." He pulled out his knife and Maroni's men watched him cautiously.

"Yeah," she said. "I'm a lover, a fighter, a dancer, a world-class gymnast, and I'm told I make a mean roast beef sandwich." Hope, or Faith, or whatever her name was, told him as she played around with her plaid skirt.

"Oh, and I kill people." She looked back his way and managed to look surprisingly threatening despite the skimpy school-girl's outfit.

While Maroni stared at the girl, the Joker jumped forward to grab hold of his head roughly and knocked his gun out of his hands. "Now, I think it's time for a little 'story'…"

The members of Maroni's gang seemed at a total loss as to what they should do. Apparently enlisting the services of Wolfram & Hart was a good call…if only he'd done it a little sooner.

"Right. My scars," the Joker said thoughtfully. "When I was a younger man, early twenties or so, and just starting out in the _'biz-'_, I was a real punk kid, a real 'tough-guy'…or so I thought, anyway." He licked his lips and brought his knife right in front of Maroni's face, making him practically cross-eyed, "I'd just joined a gang, ya see. As initiation, uh, I had to rob this little convenience store…and…I got caught, _nat-u-ral-lee_. I was looking at some real solid time in the slammer for armed robbery, but the cops, you see, they'd go lenient on me if I would just give'em a 'little-bit' of _in-fer-mation_ on the rest of my 'friends'…and so I did, like any dumb kid who didn't no any better would. And, when a few of my 'friends' got brought up on charges….well…didn't take'em long to figure out who'd squealed…and…"

Maroni flinched as the Joker brought the knife closer to his mouth and the clown's eyes flared dangerously, "Well, you get the picture."

"You kill me and my men will kill you!" Maroni's eyes bulged.

"Will they?" The Joker glanced around at the frightened men, "Hmm...way I see it, with you dead, they'll be looking for someone to fill your shoes. I think I just might fit the bill. So, maybe they will maybe they won't. Guess we'll just have to see, won't we?"

The Joker was about to go for what looked to be a killing stroke when his body was flung like a rag-doll over the bar counter. Various bottles of alcohol came crashing down over top of the clown and glass shattered everywhere.

Maroni never thought he'd be so relieved to see the Batman in his life.

The girl was distracted by the new arrival, so Maroni took his chance to bolt to the exit and out of the fray. Those people from Wolfram & Hart had better be as good as they let on, or he was a dead man.

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_


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